


Games of the mind and more

by asterCrash



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Chess, F/F, Masturbation, Mind Games, Mind Meld, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterCrash/pseuds/asterCrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose thought godlike vision over the paths leading to favourable outcomes would let her trounce Terezi in a few games of chess but the Seer of Mind is not so easily defeated and with frustration Rose realises her motives for the challenge may have been less than honest and 'favourable outcomes' has a wide definition. Whatever she does, she cannot get her fellow seer out of her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games of the mind and more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inklesspen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklesspen/gifts).



Terezi Pyrope is in your head and you want her out. You’d thought your powers as a seer of light would trump hers as a seer of mind, not even a fully realised one at that! But how can your powers be working at all if every path you See leading to favourable outcomes leads to continual defeat at her hands. The game indicated that chess is perhaps not as uniquely human as one might have first assumed, however from all you know of Terezi she’s never been one for games of explicit strategy. She vastly prefers mind games.

Running her tongue thoughtfully up the length of your now captured queen piece, swirling pensively around the head when you know for a fact she doesn’t need her tongue anywhere near the piece to perceive it adequately enough is clearly a tactic to make you lose your cool. It is working extremely well. She lets the piece rest on her lower lip, mouth moving absentmindedly at the ridges ringed around its marble length, while she carefully moves a knight that she insists on referring to as ‘dragons’ into position.

“Human-check, Lalonde, it is your move.” She says, face moving into a grin, sightless eyes fixed on you and the damn queen still hovering half-in half-out of her mouth.

“Firstly, ‘human-check’ makes no sense, given the game was clearly not of human invention and you’ve pointed out there was a very similar troll analogue, even if it never captured your interest. Secondly, this is check-mate, there is no move I can make that will spare my king from your toothy alien wrath.”

“Mate? That was the word your kind use for pailing, is this game perhaps a subtle proposition Lalonde? You will have to spare me your obfuscation for I am but a mere master of all things in the mind and not a mind reader.”

“We’ve played six games now and you’ve made that lame joke literally every time, Terezi. And fortunately for me I’ve come to a realisation that the best way to stop myself from hearing that tired excuse for humour is to simply leave and forget there ever was such a game as chess or an infuriating person with whom I wanted to play!”

You try to resist the temptation to flip the board in anger. You fail to resist the temptation to flip the board in anger. Making a hasty retreat is therefore the best way to cover the shameful flush creeping up your cheeks before Miss Pyrope can get a whiff of that bright red she loves so much plastered all over your face. You stalk the corridors of the meteor, stiff and rigid with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Embarrassed that you were defeated so soundly, angry at yourself for wanting that result for Terezi. You can only see now that you’ve been so thoroughly trounced how petty and mean-spirited you’d intended the contest to be. A battle of the seers, to see which aspect was strongest in a contest of strategy. Of course it was a game you at least knew the rules to, and some of the classic openings, whereas she was a complete novice. After you’d lost the first game without resorting to your powers you’d decided godhood would be wasted if you persisted in an aversion to cheating. Unfortunately being literally a god of good luck did nothing to change yours.

Even above your embarrassment at your own conduct you’re still so damn annoyed with Terezi. You want to be her friend, her wit is the only other on this ship after Kanaya’s that can contend with your own. But the way she blocks your every attempt to push a conversation forward when she’s hooked those shark teeth of hers into a topic, the way she has to insert innuendo into every subject (letting her talk to Dave, ever, was a mistake), the way she can’t go five minutes without showing off her tongue, okay it’s starting to sound like you might have an oral fixation. You’re not uneducated on the topic of caliginous romance, you know this is likely what the trolls would call ‘waxing obsidian’ for your fellow seer. It just seems so preposterous that you could be developing a crush on _her_ of all people. You’ll admit she’s not unattractive, you just can’t think of yourself enjoying a productive relationship with her. Or perhaps the problem is that you can’t _stop_ imagining the two of you in a relationship. It seems no matter what you think you want, Terezi Pyrope is in your mind.

Finding yourself in your room at the end of your wanderings, surprised at how easily you defaulted back to this route without thinking. Flopping down on your bed, you take stock. You are angry at yourself. You are angry at Terezi. You are also extremely hot and bothered. After those defeats you probably can’t embarrass yourself further, so you might as well work out the frustration in the privacy of your room. Rolling onto your back to grant better access to your more sensitive parts, you slip a hand up your godhood robes to massage a needy breast. It had maybe been poor form on your part to engage in your chess match braless but as far as you’re aware Terezi’s smell-o-vision isn’t sufficient to notice the hardness of your nipples poking out through your pyjamas. You begin to roll said nipple back and forth between thumb and forefinger, thinking of her, of the way she smiles, the way she smells, the way she smells you, always leaning in, always lingering, always huffing you deeply like she’s an addict and you’re a jug of paint thinner. You’re not even sure you want to fight against the hatred growing for her. She’s just so smart and she uses that intelligence for boorish things like pulling pranks on Dave. You’d maybe like her to pull a few more on you, _then_ you could feel more secure in your loathing. You try to imagine her mouth around your breast, sucking gently, lapping at the tip with that oh-so-dextrous tongue of hers. Instead you find yourself imagining her teeth on you, sinking in, pulling hard. You’re not ashamed to admit the involuntary fantasy is somewhat more arousing, if in a more visceral sense.

You run your hands down your torso to the waistline of your divine leggings, giggling at the thought of how much of your possessions and assorted bits can be referred to as divine now that you’ve ascended to god tier. Your godly fingers slip in to your divine leggings, brushing gently through the holy pubic hair to rest at the lips of the sacred vulva. You’re shocked to find yourself resorting to the style of humour _she_ would appreciate, though you suppose she’d refer to it as the sacred nook. She’d probably refer to it as that while hovering just above it, tongue dipping tantalisingly out to lick her lips and practically drool over yours. Fortunately when pleasuring yourself you need not wait for the whims of an infuriating tease of a troll but, for some reason that escapes you just at this time, you hold off for a while longer. It’s almost unbearable just having your fingers resting daintily on your lips, refusing to press forward because you know she would refuse. You almost wish she was here to give you permission to go further.

You try to imagine her scent, not dark and musky like Kanaya, but tart and flavoursome. The thought of her lips pressed to your nethers rides high in your mind, you almost wish she was here in person so that you could force her down onto you, take relief rather than wait to be given it. You still can’t bring yourself to push your fingers any deeper inside, but you rub up and down along your opening, enjoying the guilty sensation of masturbating to thoughts of a close friend. Deciding reinforcements are needed, you slip a second hand down to massage your rear, tracing fingernails tantalisingly across your own flesh in an imitation of what you’re certain would be the devastatingly arousing rake of her claws. You just know you’d squeal under such an assault and she’d certainly give out that raspy cackle of hers, the one that sends shivers down your spine and into other body parts every time you hear it. She grates on your nerves so often yet she’s so damn compelling. You wish you didn’t find her attractive at all or you loved every bit of her but this halfway hating and wanting that trolls call kismessitude is sure to drive you mad.

Just as you’re about to give up on your auto-erotic teasing and plunge your fingers inside yourself a knock at the door disturbs you. “Lalonde, I am respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as a legislacerator by coming in anyway” You freeze in place as she swings the door open and sniffs about to locate you. You’re strewn across your bed with two hands down your pants but you’re not sure how much of that she’s able to pick up from a quick whiff. She takes a step in your direction, face uncertain, like she’s not quite sure what she’s not seeing at the moment. “Lalonde, I thought for certain you would be naked by now, some seer of mind I am. Do you always masturbate while fully dressed?”

That breaks your deer-in-the-headlights impression long enough for you to scramble back to a less decadent posture, hands out in the open and hopefully not smelling of anything she can identify. “I don’t make a habit of it enough to have a preference. May I know how exactly you predicted I’d be so indisposed at this time and, follow-up question, _why the fuck you just barged in knowing this?_ ”

“Please, I am intimately aware of the consequences of all actions. Did you think I spent the last hour beating you at silly board games just so you could have a tantrum and leave me all alone? I wanted you to try something we could both regret later. If you had have stayed around for just one more game it would have ended with us both on the floor, not me picking up pieces while you run off to selfishly have fun on your own!” She says it with a smile so earnest you’re inclined not to challenge her on calling out your tantrum. Then she gives you a look that’s vaguely indescribable but sends black chills directly to the pit of your stomach. You wish you still had a hand at your crotch. She closes the distance between you at a saunter and your mind begins to race. Your powers aren’t on the fritz, you just wanted a favourable outcome for your chess match. What outcome could be more favourable than the troll herself walking across the room to you, stripping as she goes, widening shark-tooth grin plastered on her face?

Faith in your abilities restored, you let Light fill in behind your eyes, opening the world of possibilities and Favoured paths. You see from her perspective, walking towards you what would she look for? She’d want to smell you, she’d want you to reek of desire for her. You press already damp fingers into the crotch of your leggings and let your fluids soak through from between your legs. You watch her mind turn over, processing your thoughts, your moves and countermoves, every sashaying step turned into ballet on the chessboard. She wriggles while pulling her jeans off her hips, enough to free her bulge, wet and slapping against the bottom of her stomach. She must have known in intimate detail the way that would make you gulp, the tingle it would send like lightning across your skin. She knows this is the route down the decision tree that leads you to sucking her off before you get any attention yourself. Like fucking hell.

You open your mind to the element of your calling, calling up and discarding path after path of favourable outcomes, looking for one that shoves her headfirst into your wetness. There are distressingly few that do not end with you on your knees servicing her, you are clearly playing against a master of first-time hatefucking. You dismiss the visions of yourself worshipping her nook, teal staining your chin and opt for the path most Favourable to your reckoning. Your hands run up the soft fabric of your tights to grab at the front of your god robe, pulling it taut over your crotch before lifting the whole garment up, just enough to tantalisingly reveal the soft skin of your belly. It takes some flexing of your torso to make it looks smooth, you resist the temptation to simply float above the bed because exercising your godhood too visibly is like to send Pyrope into a spate of insecurity that only ends with her bulge down your throat. You Know how this must be affecting her, the smell of your colour next to the citrine perfection of your robe, topped by the overpowering muskiness of your increasingly moist tights. You know just how desperate she must be to taste all of you, run that tongue of hers over your skin and clothing and face and fuck she’s tricked you into thinking of the things you want her to do to you. She notices the way your face creases up at the revelation and waggles her eyebrows in a way that is both very irritating and deeply arousing. You consult the possibilities ahead of you that lead to a desirable outcome and the extreme majority are now telling you to abandon pride and get on your knees.

You let the Light take you completely in a desperate effort to regain control of the situation, it burns through your synapses and opens up to you the possibilities of the favourable things Terezi Pyrope could be thinking now. You struggle against the knowledge, where your mind is a neat tree of paths diverging and converging to outcomes ranked neatly between favourable and unfavourable her brain seems to simply take an action as an idea and branch out ad infinitum with consequences. In the blooming fractal of her thinkspace you see the actions she might take in reaction to you taking your top off, you see her coming to lie atop you, breasts against rumblespheres, bulge waggling helplessly over the front of your orange pants, staining them the shade of green that apparently comes from blending the Light aspect with her teal sex. You see in that summer thunderstorm she calls a thinkpan how you might react and fuck you’ve got her bulge in your mouth again.

Pulling out aches for a few seconds, you suppose brainfreeze is little punishment considering you just abused your aspect to temporarily hijack the aspect of another. It seems however that in the time you were busy calculating your next move Terezi was putting her next ten into action. Your top has been completing discarded, leaving her access to your perky nipples and soft flesh. She brings her mouth up to your neck to give you a taste, nibbling along soft flesh where she goes. Claws trace not too delicately over your sides and you stifle a giggle at the ticklishness of her razor point nails stroking you. She turns her mitts around to cup your breasts, squeezing them roughly, likely not expecting how best to elicit pleasure from the soft mammalian protrusions. You See that the best sex available to you involves good communication, so you give her a hint and drag her claw tips to circle your nipples, showing her how to squeeze and play with them. She takes to it delightedly, testing your tolerance for her squeezes, measuring the noises she can elicit from you with careful application of her claw tips to the sensitive nubs of flesh. Eventually she puts her mouth to them, that thrice damned tongue of hers swirling so tantalising around you, you feel like your whole body is being sucked into her mouth. You lose track of yourself for a time, but you never lose track of her bulge, swatting itself at the warmth between your legs, worming along the way-too-sheer fabric protecting your entrance from its assault. You consult the favourable outcomes for the path that best leads to taking that wriggling piece of trollmeat inside of you. Naturally, your options have been reduced entirely to “suck her alien dick already, Lalonde”.

You levitate the two of you up into the air and she doesn’t even bother to hold on because this is obviously all according to plan. You settle the two of you to standing on your feet, then you float down to your knees. Her jeans are still hooked around her thighs, you yank them down to her ankles to give you a better view of her pocket octopus and bearded clam (the euphemism still works even if it’s more moth-like fluff than pubic hair). She’s dripping teal from her opening, a trail of her juices is running torpidly down the inside of her thighs. You obligingly clean her up while reaching around to grab two handfuls of alien derriere. She tastes like sugary tea with mint flavouring running through it and you want so much more. You’re not sure whether your battle of wits is still underway but you score yourself a point for the soft cooing clicking moans she gives out as you draw your tongue up the lips of her nook to tease at the fat base of her bulge. Her length is more slender than Kanaya's and you know that you can take that without much trouble, though you’re not certain how your throat will handle the wicked set of ridges running along the top of her coiling appendage. You don’t need mystical godhood powers however to see exactly how favourable those ridges will be inside of you, lending all the more importance to following through on the current path this crafty bitch has hornswoggled you into.

You let the tip of your tongue mingle with the end of her bulge savouring the flavour already leaking from its porous surface. Gradually you coax it into you, licking on the underside in short flicks, bringing it further into the warmth of your mouth. You suck on the amount you’ve managed to take so far, feeling the squeeze of it as more of her sweet minty liquid flows around your tongue. It gives you the impetus to swallow and her bulge is more than happy to follow its leavings down your throat. The ridges fortunately do not pose any challenge on the way down and there’s immense satisfaction to be had in the way she grabs your head for support as you continue swallowing around her, each gulp milking her bulge for more of its genetic material. Her thumbs rub where you might have had horns had you been hatched rather than born, though the stroking is hardly unpleasant on a human scalp either. You wonder exactly how this factored into her games, whether she was toying with you in the third chess match with the express intention of using you as her bucket. You feel like you should be at least a little ticked off that you were so easily led down a path that ends with the two of you fucking but you suppose you’re partly to blame if your subconscious idea of a favourable end to your chess match was you on your knees with her hands in your hair. She pulls out a little faster than you can handle and you choke as the ridges reverse their path up your throat, her alien sex noodle visibly woozy for all the material you’ve sucked out of it but still wiggling and ready to go. Terezi cups your chin and lifts you into a kiss, lapping her own material up where some had dripped down your chin. “I hate you Lalonde, you know that right?”

“Hate you too, Pyrope, now are you going to fuck me or just stand there looking contemptible?”

She gives a mocking scoff and shoves you roughly back towards the bed. Before you have time to get your balance back she’s got her hands on the waistband of your leggings, ripping them down and off your legs and taking your slippers with them. She kicks of her own pants, still pooled around her ankles before crawling up to join you on the bed. Her bulge is still warm and moist from your mouth when it slaps against your belly and begins its slither southwards towards your crotch. You take the opportunity to mash your hips together, trapping her member in what you hope is a less than pleasant embrace. She squirms, gloriously desperate, against you, the root of her bulge rubbing up so very perfectly against your clit. The fever of her heat catches you like wildfire, running across every inch of your sensate flesh. You wonder idly if her powers give her some vicarious experience of your own pleasure when she’s thinking out in advance how best to make you squirm. You certainly contemplate how good it must feel for her to slide into you, coiling and throbbing its way past your lips and into the tightness of your folds. The ridges perform exactly as predicted and desired, much to your satisfaction. You think you should write a passive aggressive thank you note to all of troll evolution for depositing such a prime example very literally into your lap. Each time she coils and extends within you the curved bumps coating the top of her bulge vibrate over your own ridged flesh on the front wall of your insides. The rip-chord of her trollhood excites you in a way you didn’t think was possible without mechanical assistance, unlocking every thrill of pleasure your body has to give, needs to give, wants to give. You do you best to make it good for her as well, reaching through the joining of your hips to finger idly at the entrance to her nook, letting the clawless tips of your fingers tease the flaps of her opening apart, rubbing them gently between the pads of your thumb and forefinger, in a very similar manner to the way you’d been playing with your own nipple before you were so rudely interrupted by a certain troll.

You feel yourself beginning to peak, thighs involuntarily beginning to squeeze more tightly around her waist, internal muscles constricting the undulating serpent within you. You don’t bother to let her know, because after your experiences today you feel safe assuming that she knows and she knows that you know that she knows and therefore nobody needs to tell anyone anything because this whole chain of events was planned out three chess matches ago with the expert precision of two seers working in unison to bring you to a screaming orgasm underneath your new kismesis. You crash over your limit and into your climax, tightening around her, pushing her over her own edge, the flow of her material changing from a gradual extrusion to a torrent of bucket filling blue green alien hate-slime. The feel of it filling you up pushes you on to a second lot of shuddering sighs, every muscle in your body twitching as you hold on to her for dear life and try to ride out the waves and waves and waves of pleasure rocking you to your core. 

When you finally come down off the seemingly endless euphoric blitz of sensations she’s panting above you, hands splayed out to either side of your head and wearing that expression that sends the shivers of caliginous romance rolling along your lower back. You do your best to mimic it back and watch her break out into an even bigger smile than you’ve seen on her before. She gives you a kiss that has way too much tongue, by design of course, and a pat on the butt as she withdraws from you. You watch in fascination as her bulge retreats back inside, her sheathe slurping it up like a noodle. She lies back down next to you, and leads you in this amazing thing that’s like a passive aggressive cuddle where you both still get warmth and closeness but none of the affection or loveydoveyness of a proper cuddle. You stay together like that for a while, not talking about anything in particular just taking turns to wind each other up about one thing or another. You check your Sight every so often to see whether you’re still on the right course, but as far as the aspect of light is concerned hanging out with Terezi Pyrope can only lead to favourable outcomes.

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  
> "Maybe it's Seer powers, maybe it's psychic powers, maybe it's being so incredibly smart you can predict the other girl. Anyway, Rose and Terezi are in each other's heads and this leads to some interesting sex. I'm thinking maybe one of them starts masturbating and the other one stops by and things get even more heated."


End file.
